The Queen in the North
by butterflyKisses26
Summary: The time has come for Robb to choose his queen from among the women of Lord Frey's family.  But what happens when his chosen queen is not who she seems to be?  And what will Jon think of her when he comes for the wedding?  Rating subject to change.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: No I do not own Game of Thrones (the books or the show). I do, however, own any and all original characters.

Author's Note: I'm back after an extremely long hiatus and am looking forward to getting this story off the ground. Please feel free to write me with all your thoughts and comments on this story. Feedback is always appreciated as is constructive criticism. However, if you are going to flame this story I ask that you refrain as flames are a waste of your time and mine. Thank you and enjoy!

Setting: This takes place three years in the future. All events from the show have occurred, however this is independent of the books. Some information from the books may appear in later chapters, but this story centers around the show.

**The Queen in the North**

Prologue

As the sun gently caressed the horizon, casting pale pink light over the earth, Septa Joranna stood at her window watching the sunrise. It was her ritual every morning to watch the sun as it crested the horizon. The beauty of the sight helped her prepare for each day and its hardships. And the hardships were many, as they always are in times of war.

Three years the kingdom had been split by turmoil and war as too many men tried to lay claim to the crown and the Iron Throne. More blood had been shed then necessary. Sons and fathers and brothers and lovers had gone off to war never to return again, their life's blood spilled upon earth that would forever be stained red.

The septa sighed and turned from her window; time to prepare for the new day. Joranna had served as septa to Lord Frey's daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters for as long as she could remember. She had first arrived at the Twins as a young girl, a handmaid to the lord's first wife, Lady Perra. After the lady's death, Joranna had stayed on to raise the young Perriane, Lady Perra's only daughter. As Lord Frey continued to father legitimate and bastard daughters, and as his sons fathered daughters, Septa Joranna raised them, teaching them the ways of a lady. Now, Joranna was old, her body bent with age and her eyesight not what it used to be. She feared that, before too long, she would not be able to see the sunrise again. Despite it all, she remained loyal to her duties and the girls that she viewed as her own daughters, by time if not by blood.

In the distance a raven cried, causing Joranna's blood to turn to ice in her veins. Ravens did not bode well. Over the past three years ravens had become more than just messenger birds, they had become the harbingers of death. Their cries no longer signaled a message from friends or family, but rather they boded ill and brought the bitter chill of death with them. Joranna sent a silent prayer to the gods that it was not one of their own who had passed, that their own men had not perished in whatever battle had been waged.

_This is what happens when boys play at war_, the septa thought as she made her way from her rooms and walked, sullenly, towards the rooms of her many charges. She put away the bitter thought that entered her mind and forced herself to put on a happy face for the young ladies.

The girls, their years ranging from three to twenty-three, were gathered in their private solar. A room specially designed for the unmarried women of Lord Frey's bloodline, the solar was a moderately sized room with windows on all sides to overlook the water and forests that surrounded the manor. There were paints and easels set up at choice windows for the young ladies who favored the arts, bookshelves for the more scholarly of them, and numerous stools and tables where they could entertain visitors and practice their needlework. As Septa Joranna walked into the room, fifteen expectant faces turned to greet her, each one filled with questions.

"I take that you have heard the raven." The septa sighed.

"What was the message?" Marianne, the eldest of them, and granddaughter to Lord Frey's eldest son, Stevron, asked.

"That I do not know." Joranna replied. "We must wait and pray that the bird does not bring ill tidings."

"Ravens always bring ill tidings." Eight-year-old Ryella shivered. She was too young to truly remember any time before the war and Joranna's heart went out to the poor girl.

"Perhaps this time it does not." Joranna said, resting a reassuring hand on the young girl's shoulder. "Now, let us all prepare for the day. Go, dress, and we shall break our – "

The door opened suddenly, the heavy wooden thing slamming against the stone wall of the solar. The girls jumped and a few shrieked in fright. The youngest Frey, Emerella, clung to Joranna's skirts, her little fingers digging into the rough wool and her eyes wide and wet with tears of terror.

Lord Frey's son, Ser Jared, stood in the doorway, a parchment clutched in his hand.

"The king is coming." He said.

"Which king?" Joranna asked. "This land is lousy with kings." She ran a gentle hand over Emerella's hair, calming the frightened girl.

"The King in the North comes to make good on his deal." Jared replied as his eyes traveled over the girls gathered. "All of you prepare, you might yet be chosen as Queen of the North."

A rumble of excitement spread through the room as each girl raced off to prepare. The King in the North was on his way and, before the day's end, one of them would be chosen for his queen.

Joranna well remembered the day that young Lord Robb Stark, barely sixteen at the time, had arrived at the Twins and made a deal with Lord Frey. In order for the Northern army to cross the bridge controlled by Frey, the Stark boy agreed to marry one Lord Frey's many female offspring. That was three years ago, at the very beginning of the war. Since that time, the King in the North had grown into a man, now nineteen years, and hardened by war. His sword had tasted much blood since that day and he had laid siege to much of the southern kingdom. His kingdom began just short of the Wall and stretched ever closer to King's Landing, the seat of Joffery, the King on the Iron Throne and the son of the late King Robert. It had been Robert's death that had set the war in motion, and it wouldn't end until only one king remained. The war was now down to two kings, Robb and Joffery. Both of King Robert's brothers, Stannis the King in the Narrow Sea and Renly the King in Highgarden, had been defeated by Robb Stark. Renly choosing to lay down his sword and bend the knee to the King in the North and Stannis choosing death rather than bowing to a boy.

But a queen also remained in the battle for the throne. Daenerys Tararyen the Queen Across the Sea was encamped with her Dothraki army south of King's Landing. The Dothraki, a fierce and wild people, had been steadily making their way north, burning villages and taking slaves. Daenarys' power grew with each battle she won, her fierce some warriors accompanied by three dragons made her army a sight to behold and a power to fear.

Boxed between the King in the North and the Queen Across the Sea, nobody doubted that it would be much longer before King Joffery died on the Iron Throne that he so loved.

The entire kingdom prayed that, once Joffery was dethroned the fighting would stop. Daenerys' compassion was as well-known as the prowess of her Dothraki horde and Robb Stark was a sensible man. For the sake of the kingdom, many hoped that they would peaceably split the land in half and each rule their own lands. But these were the hopes and dreams of many poor folk who had lost much in the war. And, lords didn't much care for the wishes of smallfolk.

Joranna busied herself getting the girls ready for King Stark's arrival. The raven's message said that he would be arriving by the noon meal and there wasn't much time. With fifteen girls, six of them at marriageable age, there was much to do to get them all ready. Joranna spent the next few hours setting hair, helping the girls choose their best dresses, and trying to keep the girls from fighting over who would be chosen as queen. It wasn't until they had all gathered in the Hall, the girls standing in line from eldest to youngest, that Joranna realized someone was missing.

"Where is Kayla?" Joranna turned around in a circle, as if the young woman could be found hiding behind one of the Hall's pillars or tapestries.

"Where do you think she is?" Alyx, a twenty-year-old granddaughter to the lord, replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Well if you know, then go and fetch her." Septa Joranna snapped, lacking the patience to deal with Alyx's rivalry with her cousin. "And be quick about it." She called after Alyx's retreating form.

"Kayla," Joranna muttered, "I swear that girl will be the death of me yet."

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading and I hope that you are enjoying this story so far. Please feel free to review and look for the next chapter to come in a few days.<p> 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

The clash of steel against steel echoed through the yard, scattering the birds that nestled in the trees and bushes. Two combatants whirled about each other, swords dancing, their blades catching the afternoon sun. Chests rising and falling with each rough breath with sweat dripping down foreheads.

A pair of eyes, the same blue as the clear azure sky overhead, surveyed their opponent, watching, waiting for the man's next move. Deft fingers tightened around the worn leather hilt of the warrior's sword, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The fighter's eyes did not miss the subtle shift of the other man's hips, the slight twitch as his hands shifted on the hilt of his own sword. The sword came down on the blue-eyed fighter, who whirled at the last moment, the sword whistling past but doing no harm. With a kick at the opponent's left knee, the fighter brought the other man down. A quick upper-cut knocked the blade from the fallen man's hand.

"I yield." The guard sighed as Kayla Frey held the edge of her sword at his throat.

"Come now, Tygen, surely you can do better." Kayla laughed good naturedly, laying the tip of her sword into the hard-packed earth.

Before the guard could respond, Alyx flounced into the training yard, her hair pale blonde hair loose about her shoulders and the neckline of her dress only slightly above impropriety. Her cousin looked like a modest whore as she swayed her hips in a way that, Kayla was certain, Alyx thought seductive but actually gave the appearance of a duck waddling. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Alyx paused in front of her, a sneer on her thin lips.

"You are never going to be ready on time. What a pity." Alyx flipped her hair over her shoulder dismissively as she took in Kayla's training clothes: a vest and a specially crafted split-skirt which allowed Kayla freedom of movement when fighting, both crafted out of leather that was supple and dull from use. Beneath the tunic she wore a white tunic of rough spun wool that itched like a bear whenever she sweat.

"What the gods are you talking about?" She asked. Kayla did not have the patience to deal with Alyx and whatever petty rivalry she thought existed between them.

Kayla could not point to the exact moment that Alyx had gone from being her bosom friend to her enemy. Perhaps it had happened when Kayla began her sword training or when the two had blossomed into womanhood and suitors began to sniff at their skirts.

_Let Alyx have the boys_, Kayla had thought as boys and grown men had fought for her attention while her cousin had stood by with only one or two men half-heartedly trying for her affection. The young warrior woman had no time for men or thoughts of marriage. Alyx could have them all and Kayla would gladly give them to her.

"Robb Stark, the King in the North, is nearly upon us and you are out here, playing with swords, when you should be readying yourself for his arrival." Alyx replied haughtily.

Kayla felt her heart drop. She had forgotten that one day Robb Stark would return to the Twins and claim a bride from among the women of her family. She could only pray that she escaped the young king's notice.

Long before Lord Walder Frey had forced the then Lord Robb Stark into agreeing to a marriage with one of his many female offspring, Kayla had vowed never to marry. She was to be a warrior, not a wife. It was her dream to be like the Lady Maege Mormont and her daughters, all of whom donned armor and shield and didn't give a damn about men. It was rumored that Lady Mormont was so fierce that no mortal man could stand beside her and, thus, she'd taken a bear as a lover. Kayla dreamed of being just as fierce as those women, minus the bear lover.

But now King Robb Stark had arrived to claim his bride. Kayla could only pray that she would escape his notice and be able to continue with her training and, one day, join in the battle for the Seven Kingdoms.

"Grandfather wishes us all in the Hall for the King's appraisal. Thou I doubt he will want _you_ when you look like a farmer's wife just come out of the field. You're a mess, Kayla, all covered in dirt and sweat." Alyx voice grated on Kayla, but the young woman did not allow it to show.

Sheathing her sword she drew herself up to her full height, which was not much but still an inch more than her cousin.

"I will not be joining you in the Hall." She replied roughly. "You are welcome to the king. I will gladly sing praises to the gods on your wedding day."

"You do not have a choice in this, Kayla." The booming voice of Ser Whalen, Lord Frey's son by his fourth wife, sounded through the yard. Kayla looked up to see her father standing on the balcony that overlooked the training yard, his face hard and unreadable.

"Father, please." Kayla begged. "Do not make me do this. You know I do not care for marriage."

"It is a girl's place to marry and further her family's house. You will go to the Hall and join the other maidens of our family and, should the king choose you, you will marry him." Whalen's tone brokered no argument.

For all her wanting to be a lady knight, Kayla could not withstand the desires of her father and grandfather. Forcing herself to stand tall, Kayla marched into the manor and made her way up to her room to change as quickly as she could.

* * *

><p>King Robb Stark sat in the center chair upon the dais that overlooked the Hall of the Twins. On his right sat Lord Walder Frey, a man that was almost to his one hundredth name day and still fathering children despite his age. To his left sat his lady mother Catelyn Stark, whose council he respected in all manners, especially now when he had to choose his queen. Beside his chair the direwolf, Grey Wind, sat alert, his eyes moving about the room as if he were on guard and searching for any danger posed to his master. Stark's dark, stoic eyes surveyed the Hall as well, and the women standing off to the side. His face impassive as he took in the choices presented to him. The Frey women were a comely lot, many with the same thin, pale blonde hair and bone-thin figures.<p>

From his own seat, Lord Frey eyed his female offspring, his mouth set in a firm line as he glared at them all. A lot was riding on this day and Frey was not about to let his girls and their homely looks and equally plain personalities ruin this alliance for him.

Kayla tip-toed into the Hall, hiding behind the line of her cousins, siblings, and aunts until she reached her place in the lineup. The king's attention was diverted at the moment as he spoke quietly with his mother, his fingers absent-mindedly running through the direwolf's fur. She took the moment to slip in, seemingly unnoticed. Her grandfather's harsh eye caught hers, his icy glare cutting into her. Having grown up with her grandfather's disapproval, especially when she decided to pursue the path of a knight, his glare was nothing new.

Tossing her braid over her shoulder, Kayla surveyed Lord Frey's court, which had gathered in the Hall for this momentous occasion. The room was more crowded than usual as the king's court was also there, eager to see who the young Stark chose to be his queen. Amidst the crowd, Kayla caught sight of Emerella, her little sister, shyly clinging to Septa Joranna's skirts. Kayla caught her sister's eye and, as the little girl watched, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Emerella's childish giggles echoed off the cold stones of the Hall. The king's attention shifted from his whispered conversation with his mother to little Emerella. A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips as he looked at the child's bright, laughing face. Kayla felt his gaze shift to her as he looked for the source of Emerella's laughter. Quickly, Kayla ducked her head, hoping to escape the king's notice. As well as the notice of her grandfather.

Even with a bent head, Kayla could feel the weight of Lord Frey's glare. She knew that later he would leave his disappointment in black and blue marks upon her skin. While he was a frail old man, Frey was not above having other men do his beating for him. Kayla wondered who would have the honor this time. Her own father? One of her uncles? A cousin perhaps? This would not be the first time that Lord Frey marked his anger on her skin.

A mutter went up amongst the crowd, but Kayla kept her eyes on the stone floor. The rushes that covered the floor were growing old and decaying beneath the feet of the court. A hand, roughly calloused by years of holding a sword, cupped her chin with a surprising gentleness and lifted Kayla's head. Blue eyes met eyes as gray as the steel and iron crown upon the king's brow.

"What is your name?" Robb Stark's voice was quiet, meant only for Kayla's ears.

"Kayla Frey, Your Grace." She responded, equally quiet.

"How would you like to be queen, Kayla Frey?" Stark's eyes searched her own. She waited until his eyes flitted over her face – taking in the gentle curve of her lips – before she chanced a quick look at her grandfather.

Walder Frey, as well as the entire gathering, watched the pair intently. He gripped the arm of his seat so tightly his knuckles were as white as the sparse hair atop his head. Kayla knew what would happen if she told Robb Stark what she truly thought of being queen.

Her gaze returned to the king standing before her. His eyes watching her intently, he had seen the look that passed between grandfather and granddaughter.

"I wish only for the answer _you_ want to give me." He whispered, leaning close to her, his words brushing against her ear. "I don't care what Lord Frey wants, only what you want, Kayla."

Her name on his lips was like a soft caress. For the first time in her life she was in true awe of a man. He might mean what he said, and she didn't doubt that he did. But Kayla knew that she couldn't speak truly.

In truth it was her worst fear come true. Marriage scared the hell out of her. She had seen what husbands could do to their wives. The Frey men were notorious for leaving bruises upon their brides and Kayla had sworn that would never be her fate. And if she married, especially if she married the king, what would happen to her dreams of fighting and winning glory in battle? Her dream would never happen because what man wants a wife who can wield a sword better than he?

Up close, Kayla could see the lines around Robb Stark's eyes. He was only nineteen, a mere year older than her, and yet he had the eyes of a man who had seen many more years. War had made him older than his few years. Yet, despite the harshness that war had brought upon his face, there was gentleness too. As his eyes remained locked with hers, Kayla felt something akin to respect. She did not know the young king, but she felt as if no harm would come to her as long as he stood beside her. Had he not said he wanted her to do as she chose? A king, by rights, could claim his bride and not give the poor girl a choice in the matter. But not this king. He wanted the decision to be her own, to seemingly have as much a say in this marriage. Kayla had seen the esteem he showed his lady mother and knew that he would never raise a hand against her. She did not doubt that Robb Stark had ever struck a woman be she Lady or whore.

_Mayhap he will allow me to continue my training_, she thought. _His own sister is rumored to have a sword. How can he stop his wife from using one if he does not forbid his own sister from it?_

Sensing her hesitation, Robb's fingers wrapped around her own and he lifted her hand to his lips. Placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand, his eyes locked with hers.

"Will you do me the honor, Lady Kayla Frey, of being my queen?" His voice rang throughout the Hall.

Kayla could feel all the eyes on her. Alyx's eyes bore into her, the hatred coming from her stare nearly palpable. From her place behind Septa Joranna's skirts, Emerella smiled widely, revealing the gap between her front teeth. Lord Frey leaned forward, his harsh eyes on Kayla's face, daring her to say no. And the Lady Catelyn Stark looked upon her with eyes that mirrored her son's in color and gentleness, but eyes that also held a sorrow as if she could not believe her little boy old enough to be making a marriage already.

Returning her attention to the king, who still awaited her answer, Kayla drew herself up and smiled softly.

"It would be my honor to be your queen, Your Grace." She said, her voice steady and not belying the nervousness and anxiety that coursed through her body.

Robb turned her hand over and gently brushed his lips over her palm.

"You honor me, my lady." He said before stepping back and addressing the assembled court. "My lords and ladies," his voice rang out easily, "I present to you the Lady Kayla Frey, future Queen in the North."

A cheer rose up, echoing off the walls and filling the Hall with a loud roar of happiness.


	3. Chapter Two

Author's Note: A quick thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I look forward to your thoughts on this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

"Stop your fidgeting, m'lady, or I will prick you…again." The seamstress, a good-natured woman whose girth matched two sacks of flour, half-joked as Kayla desperately tried to stand still. After five hours of dress fitting for the third day in a row, it was getting extremely difficult to stand upright for much longer.

"Are all these dresses absolutely necessary?" Kayla asked, desperate to be finished. Daylight was wasting and she had not been to the training yard since the king's arrival.

"A queen must look the part." The seamstress gave a gap-toothed grin. "The king will love his lady in such beautiful finery."

"I'll be wearing a fur cloak for the majority of the day." Kayla gritted out. Fancy dresses were wasted on a woman who would rather be in a pair of leather jerkins and holding a sword.

"Ah, and wearing nothing but your skin for the rest of it." The older woman's words caused Kayla's skin to flush with a maiden's blush. "That king is a handsome young man. He'll warm your bed well."

"I don't see why this – Mother! Will you kindly stop your pacing, you are driving me insane." Kayla snapped, taking her embarrassment and frustration out on the nervous creature that paced from one end of the solar to the next. Lady Sylwa glanced at her daughter, her knuckles white as she continued to wring her hands in front of her. A nervous creature, Lady Sylwa shied away from her daughter's harsh tone.

"I'm sorry, truly, Mother. I am not angry with you. It's just that I've been cooped up here for three days with nothing to do but stand and be measured and pricked." Kayla felt horrible for startling the woman who had given life to her.

In truth, it wasn't just the inactivity, but her impending marriage that was steadily whittling away at Kayla's sanity. Since Robb Stark's proposal, the girl had not seen her betrothed except for at the feat each night. And even then they could scarce say two words to each other. With each passing day, Kayla wondered if she was doing the right thing. She knew nothing of the man she was supposed to marry. What little she did know came from whichever one of his lords she sat beside at the feasts. And how she was to trust their word? A lord would never dare to speak ill of his king. Kayla could only pray to the gods that Robb Stark would live up to the words spoken by his lords.

"One last adjustment, m'lady, and you shall be free to go." The seamstress spoke around the needles pressed between her lips as she adjusted the hemline of Kayla's gown. "Oh your wedding shall be a fine one. If only your grandfather had insisted it be held here, instead of at Winterfell, then all of us smallfolk would have the honor of seeing it for ourselves."

"The king insists that we be married in the weirwood, before the Old Gods. For all the greatness that is the Twins, we do not boast a weirwood." Kayla responded, her eyes fixed on the tapestry in front of her. She did not want to think of leaving the Twins. Though she didn't care for many of the members of her vast family, there were a few that she would miss desperately. Foremost among them little Emerella. She had pleaded with her father to allow her to take Emerella to Winterfell as her ward, but Ser Whalen would not allow it. He was determined to keep the child with him until he could make an advantageous match for her. He had made sure to keep the sisters apart for the three days that Kayla was being fitted for her dresses. And even at the meals Kayla only caught glimpses of Emerella.

"There we are," the seamstress stood, her shoulders hunched with age, and surveyed her handiwork. "You look a vision, m'lady. The king won't be able to wait to take this dress off you on your wedding night."

The woman turned Kayla so that she could survey herself in the blurred glass of the mirror. Standing before her was a woman that Kayla did not recognize. A woman dressed in her wedding gown and ready for her groom.

* * *

><p>The caravan loaded up on the morning of the King in the North's fourth day at the Twins. Kayla watched as her trunks were loaded up into one of the many wagons that were to carry her belongings, as well as the wedding gifts from the Frey household and its smallfolk, up north to Winterfell. She absent-mindedly stroked her horse's muzzle, a chestnut red mare with black legs and two black spots on her rump whom Kayla had named Ember. The mare nudged the young woman's hand, prompting her to continue her petting. Kayla smiled indulgently at the horse. The two had been together since Kayla was but a young girl and Ember not more than a foal.<p>

"It's to be a long journey, girl," Kayla said to the horse, "are you up for it?"

Ember nickered in response, tossing her head as if in defiance of the miles ahead.

"At least one of us is." Kayla sighed, resting her forehead against the mare's. "At least one of us is."

The call to mount up carried down the line and the young woman gave one final tug on the gelding's saddle to make sure it was secure. She was just about to climb up when Emerella came bursting out of the keep and into the courtyard.

"No go, Kayla!" The three-year-old cried, racing towards her sister with Septa Joranna jogging behind trying to catch the child.

Kayla ran to her sister, catching her in her arms and holding her tight. She did not care if the entire court watched her as she fell to her knees with the small girl. She didn't care if the king saw her tears as she held Emerella close.

"Don't you worry, little one." She whispered to her sister as the child's tears left large wet spots on her traveling cloak. "I'll send for you once I'm married. The king will take you on as a ward and we can be together again. I promise you." She rained kisses upon Emerella's forehead. "I promise I won't leave you here."

A rough hand pulled the two apart and Kayla looked up into her father's hard eyes. He yanked Kayla to her feet.

"Go." He ordered. "Your king is waiting."

There were to be no heartfelt good-byes from him, Kayla had known this, but still his dismissal hurt. With one last longing look at Emerella, whose face was buried into Septa Joranna's skirts as the septa tried to comfort her, Kayla swung up onto Ember.

"Take care of her for me," she said as she road past Septa Joranna, the woman gave a quick nod and Kayla spurred her horse forward.

* * *

><p>The Kingsroad stretched as far as the eye could see. It would be a long journey and, with so many in their caravan, a slow one. Robb rode ahead of the column, his mother Lady Catelyn Stark riding on his left and his most trusted bannerman Jon Umber, known as the GreatJon, to his right. His direwolf, Grey Wind, ran ahead of the caravan. Robb knew he would find them again when they made camp, his muzzle most likely wet with the blood of a fresh kill. He was eager to return to Winterfell, he had been gone too long and it would feel good to be home again.<p>

_It won't be just my home anymore,_ he thought_, I am bringing back the woman who will be my wife. The woman who will share my burdens and my bed. The woman who will be mother to my children._

The thought weighed heavily on him. Robb knew nothing of being a husband. There had been a time, though, that he had known nothing of being a king. He would learn, he knew, and he would strive to be the best husband he could be. He could remember the way his father had been with his mother, the love that they had shared before Eddard Stark had been beheaded by the boy king, Joffery. He would follow his father's example as best he could and, perhaps, there would be love between him and Kayla the same as there had been between Ned and Catelyn.

Robb wished that there had been more time to spend with his betrothed before their return to Winterfell, but Lord Frey had commandeered his attention for much of their stay and his lords had commanded the rest of the time. There was still a war raging, and his wedding was no reason to stop their war councils. But there was nothing Robb wanted more than to stop time for but a few seconds and marvel at the woman who would soon be his wife.

The day that the king and his lords had arrived at the Twins it had been an endless parade of woman after woman as Walder Frey called forth each daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter of marriageable age and introduced them. Each one was more unattractive than the last, their lips pulled into smiles meant to be alluring but their eyes scheming and calculating. Robb had no desire to be wedded to a woman who would as soon share his bed as stab him while he slept. He would learn from the mistakes of the late King Robert, whose own wife, Cersei Lannister, had been his undoing.

He had been seeking his mother's council when he saw her slip into the Hall. She tried to sneak in, but he noticed her the second she entered. How could anyone have missed her when she stuck out from the drab women like a swan in the midst of geese? Her hair was the color of a riverbank after a skirmish, a deep brown with hints of red streaking through it. She had it in a braid that trailed down her back to stop just above the gentle curve of her backside. Her skin was lightly colored, as though she spent a great deal of time outside. And her smile, he caught a hint of it as she made a face to someone in the crowd then quickly ducked her head; it was like a ray of sunlight in a dark prison. This woman was a rare jewel among the Freys. Whichever of her parents was not Frey born must have been the one she took after, as many of those who were descendents of the Frey line had no spark of life and vitality in their appearance. He had known with one look at her that this was the woman he would choose. None of her relatives were equal to her.

And now she was his. Or soon would be once they returned to Winterfell and the preparations completed.

During the feasts that followed his courts arrival at the Twins, Robb had made certain to seat his most trusted advisors beside the beautiful Kayla Frey so they might get to know her while Robb was on the dais with her grandfather. The GreatJon had supped with her that first night and his words still made Robb smile as he thought of them.

"She's a quick wit, Your Grace. Smart and with a tongue as sharp and quick as a whip. The lady is a dove among pigeons here. You've chosen well." The Great Jon had thumped him on the back so hard that Robb had fought to keep his balance. "If I were but a few years younger, and you not my king, I'd fight you for the girl. I've no doubt she'll be just as fiery between the sheets as she is out of them." The GreatJon's booming laugh echoed through the room as Robb had blushed at his offhanded comment.

Robb had continued to watch Kayla whenever he could, marveling at how much she stood out amongst the other Freys. She was unafraid to show her weakest moments, too. Robb could clearly picture in his mind the scene that had transpired between his betrothed and her young sister just before they had left. The fact that she could show tears in front of so many was truly amazing and Robb's respect for her only grew.

Returning his focus to the long journey ahead, Robb called for his squire. The boy, who was barely fourteen, rode forward. He was new as Robb's squire, as Olyvar Frey, who had served in the position before him, was recently knighted for his service.

"Send for the Lady Kayla Frey, I wish for her to ride alongside me. And tell her guard she will be quite safe with me, so they need not accompany her." Robb commanded. The journey would be long and would serve as the perfect time for him to get to know his future queen.

"Yes, Your Grace." The squire bobbed his head and was quickly off, racing his horse down the line to find the lady.

* * *

><p>Kayla was not unused to riding for long periods of time, but even this ride was starting to make her thighs ache. And there was nothing to keep her mind from thinking of the pain or of what awaited her at the end of their journey. All around her rode a handful of Freys that had been chosen to accompany Kayla and serve as witnesses to the wedding. A few aunts and uncles, some cousins – among them Alyx who was sulking from her seat in one of the carriages – and four guardsmen from the Twins who would serve in her Queens Guard. And yet, Kayla felt completely and utterly alone.<p>

"M'lady," the cry came from a young boy who rode towards her, his raven black hair almost blue in the sunshine, "the king requests you join him, my lady. He says your guards need not come with you."

Kayla's heart beat frantically within her chest. So she was finally to speak with the man that would be her husband.

"Lead the way." She told the squire as she spurred her horse on behind him.

At the head of the caravan, King Robb Stark sat tall and proud on his horse. He smiled at Kayla as she brought Ember up alongside of him. The GreatJon had drawn his own horse back to make room for her at the king's side.

"I trust that you are faring well this morning, my lady." He said in greeting.

"Very well, Your Grace." Kayla replied with a nod.

"Please, there is no need to be so formal with me. We're to be married and you can't very well be calling your husband Your Grace all the time. You may call me Robb." His smile was light and friendly, but there was a wariness there, as if he wasn't yet sure what to make of Kayla.

_At least I am not alone in my worries_, she thought.

"Then you must do me the same courtesy, Your…Robb," she said his name slowly, tasting it as it passed from her lips. She found that it was not an unlikeable taste. "If I am to call you by your name, then you must call me by mine."

The king's smile brightened.

"I would like that very much, Kayla."

From the corner of her eye, Kayla caught a smile pulling at Catelyn Stark's lips as she subtly slowed her horse, allowing Kayla and Robb some semblance of privacy.


End file.
